Flower Glow
by Silverbellsb
Summary: When Flynn falls sick with a deadly disease that's been plaguing the kingdom, it's up to Rapunzel to find the last of the Sun's Tear flowers to heal him and the rest of her people.
1. Prolouge

**Hi everyone! **

**I must be nuts to post a new multi-chap fic, not when I'm already juggling **_**Ever After **_**and **_**Cherry Cough Syrup **_**(which is written for Powerpuff Girls, in case you were wondering). **

**Ah, well. A girl's got to submit to her muse, right? Besides, this idea was too awesome to resist. Plus, I wanna post it before anyone else gets a similar idea. :) **

**So this first chapter is mainly a filler, but I actually like the way it turned out. Unlike my other stories, however, the action should pick up – STARTING THE NEXT CHAPTER. Or at least, I'll try to make it work out. :D**

**And by the way – a big THANK YOU to all those who reviewed my first dark fic, **_**Bleed**_**. I mean, seriously, I was really excited to see so many reviews! Squee! I can write dark, creepy stories – who knew, right? :D**

**Okay… you guys know the drill. Read, review, and tell me how to improve!**

**(One last thing: I don't own Tangled, BUT I DO OWN A RAPUNZEL DOLL WHO IS SO DARN CUTE WITH HER GORGEOUS EYES. YOU SHOULD BUY ONE, SHE IS SO IRRISISTABLE.) **

O*O*O

_It began with winds from the north; gusty, battering winds that stirred up the seas so that the crests of the waves were sharp and short and the shorelines streaked with foam. As the wind swept across the ocean, running invisible fingers through the water's surface and creating small currents, the air became deathly still, and everyone from miles around could feel it. The stillness, the absolute lifelessness of the atmosphere lingered long after the winds had passed, and it was as if the whole world was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. _

_They say the first victim was a young sailor. It was whispered that he was cursed, that nothing like this had ever been seen before, that maybe it was the work of a sea spirit the boy had disturbed. But most connected the sickness to the strange coming and going of the winds. _

_In time, others fell ill too. Their symptoms were identical to that of the sailor's, who had not lived to tell his tale. The sickness spread, always slowly, and like a wild beast on the prowl, it struck only when you least expected it. It crawled through the underbrush and floated on thin air, killing as many as ten people a month. After the first year of the illness's first appearance, it had killed over one hundred and twenty men and women, children and adults in the kingdom of Angers alone. Soon after, the disease was dubbed the Dark Plague._

_The Dark Plague soon spread to other kingdoms as well. The odd bit was that it only seemed to affect chosen people. A person who had been healthy all his life might suddenly fall prey to the disease's ever-hungry jaws. Yet another person might be the sole survivor in an entire household of victims. Sir Dark Plague is choosy; he only selects a special few and then inflicts them with his symptoms._

_First the victim looses all his strength so that he can barely move a finger. Then comes the cough that leads to deathly pale complexion and ashen cheeks. Afterward, there are other symptoms, such as the skin becoming so fragile that it tears easily, difficulty to breathe, and temporary blindness. _

_For years, there was no known cure for the Dark Plague. All a victim could do was pray. He would be lucky if he survived. He would be just another of the hundreds of lost lives if he didn't._

O*O*O

It happened three months after the return of the Lost Princess – which would be me – to the kingdom of Corona. I guess you could have called it the biggest shock I've ever had in my life, even bigger than the shock I got when I found out who I really was, even bigger than the shock I got when I realized shoes were worse than anything else in the world, and… well, I'm rambling. But yes, I think you get the picture.

This tale is about more than just me and my shock, though. This is the story of a man who fought for life when everyone else had all but given up hope… this is the story of a friend who refused to back down when her companion was in danger… and this is the story of a girl – a girl who is me.

But before I start this story, I should probably tell you a little about myself. My name is Princess Rapunzel, but Rapunzel without the title suits me just fine. Somehow, nobody but my parents and Eugene can understand that – we'll get back to these people in a moment, but keep them in mind, because they play some pretty big parts in this story.

So anyway. I'm Rapunzel, the Lost – and now, found – Princess of Corona. I'm assuming you already know my old story, which involves me, a false mother, a wanted thief, a horse, a frying pan, a chameleon, a gorgeous lantern show, and a lot of hair, correct?

To summarize the whole thing, I, Princess Rapunzel, once had healing powers in my hair that came from a flower, which blossomed from a single drop of sunlight. A woman named Gothel used the flower for centuries to keep her young and beautiful, but when the queen of the land fell sick, the flower was discovered and made into a potion. It healed the queen, who soon after had a lovely baby girl with beautiful golden hair. Gothel was furious that her flower had been stolen, and she retaliated – by stealing the newborn princess.

Devastated, the king and queen released hundreds of lanterns into the sky every July sixteenth, which was their daughter's birthday, in the hopes that one day their lost princess would follow them home. If we were to fast-forward eighteen years, we would see a pleasant young lady with sevety feet of magical hair sitting in her tower when BOOM – a strange thug falls in through her window. I, the young lady, hit the man (Flynn Rider) with a frying pan and effectively knocked him out. To make a long story short, we made a deal: he would take me to see the lanterns, and I would return his satchel, which held a crown that he had just stolen. Later I would find out that it was my own crown he had stolen.

Okay, I know you're getting fidgety. I'll skim through the rest: Flynn took me to see the lanterns, we fell in love, he told me his real name was Eugene. Then things went horribly wrong: I found out I was the Lost Princess, Gothel stabbed Eugene, he cut my magical golden hair, which turned brown and powerless. Gothel began to age rapidly, she fell out the tower's window and turned to dust, Eugene died in my arms. (Gosh, that part was horrible.) Then one of my tears – the last bit of magic inside me – healed him, and brought him back to life. (Yay!) Then I returned home and lived happily ever after, yada-yada-yada.

Now for my new story. Since returning to the palace and being reunited with my real, wonderful parents, I have found that the life of a lost princess is extremely interesting. You are suddenly faced with the challenge of learning to rule some two thousand plus people, and you have to read on topics that are both dull and yet mystifying. You are seemingly the boss of your subjects, but your own council won't listen to you when you try to convince them that the love of your life has given up his former life of crime. You have to wear shoes that pinch your toes and skirts that cover the shoes – but the maids won't listen when you ask why you wear have the dumb shoes if nobody can see them under all those skirts. All at once, you are on top; your people look up to you for answers and comfort and hope. You are suddenly admired; you are sometimes revered and feared, as though you are not human but something higher.

It's not that I didn't enjoy all these virtues; in fact, I was rather flattered at first when people began calling "Princess" and asking timidly if I would like a clean paintbrush and new paints. Or seconds at dinner, or a nice new necklace. Things like that. But soon I got tired of hearing "Princess, Princess" all day long. It was never just Rapunzel, or Blondie, or Coco-Puff as a certain somebody liked to call me. Just Princess this, Princess that. Arrrgh.

And then there are lessons. Everything that can be taught, and everything else, is taught to the princess. Lucky me, I have to spend a good deal of my day absorbing (or trying to absorb) the endless lists of names and dates in Corona's history, not to mention my etiquette lessons, posture/poise lessons, writing lessons, singing lessons, princess lessons…. the list goes on and on. They even have a "looking beautiful" lesson, if you can believe it.

But THANK HEAVEN I have three wonderful people in my life who let me take it easy when things get rough. They are – be still, my heart – my fabulous parents and Eugene.

King Jonathan and Queen Isabel love just about everything I do. Mother likes to watch me paint, covering the walls of my new room with forest foliage, ocean waves, and softly glowing lanterns. Daddy enjoys escorting me through the palace gardens and plays long, concentrated games of chess with me. Both my parents want to catch up on the eighteen years I was held captive in that old tower.

And then there is Eugene, Eugene Dylan Fitzherbert, formerly known as Flynn Rider, the wanted thief. He is – oh gosh, how to describe him. He is everything to me; he is the part of my life that I can't live without. He is the one who took me to see the lanterns I had dreamed of seeing since I was three years old, he is the one who would do anything to free me from Gothel, my kidnapper; he is the one who gave his life to save me.

I love him.

And although I didn't know it at the time, he would soon be snatched away from me again.

And this time, I would be powerless to save him.

O*O*O

**Meep! Did I get off track here? **

**Gee, I hope not.**

**Don't forget to review!**

**Peace and cupcakes,**

**Silverbells**


	2. Please Tell Me

**Okey-dokey, next chapter! I meant to upload this sooner, but I got busy with some writing workshop and barely had time to work on this. :-}**

**OMG, I was really hyper when I wrote this chapter. Why? Because I went to this party and we started watching Tangled AND I HAD TO LEAVE JUST WHEN THE FIRST LANTERNS APPEARED! IT WAS INJUSTICE I TELL YOU!**

**Ah, well. At least I've got my handy-dandy FF account and I can vent by writing about Punzi and Flynn. :D**

**Reviews make my day! Don't forget to tell me how to improve, too! :D **

O*O*O

The Dark Plague came to Corona three months after my return. With its unexpected attacks, deadly unpredictability, and inevitable aura, it had no trouble catching innocent lives off guard. After the first month, six people had already died. The next month, ten. The one after, nearly seventeen.

I was fully aware of the Dark Plague creeping through the kingdom, but at the time, I had been too boggled down with lessons, meetings, and even more lessons to pay attention to the steady decrease in Corona's population. It was only when Sir Dark Plague attacked the most beloved person in my life that I realized what heartbreak, and what suffering, must have been going through my kingdom.

It was also when I realized that something had to be done.

Our story begins on a mild summer morning in the palace. If I remember correctly, the whole thing began in the middle of my dance lesson…

O*O*O

"Your Highness? Where are your shoes?"

I paused mid-twirl, my skirts ballooning out before swishing around my ankles and finally settling, covering my bare toes.

"Shoes?" I asked in my most innocent voice, inwardly bracing myself for the same lecture I'd heard at least a thousand times since I took up my position as princess.

Madame Edith had a pained expression on her face as she crossed the ballroom with impossibly tiny steps. She took my arm gently, but her voice was firm as she guided me to a pair of ivory chairs. "I think we should have another one of our little chats, don't you, Princess?"

Madame Edith is my dance instructor. She's beautiful, with her golden ringlets always piled up atop her head and her ruby red lips, but she's impossibly strict. She won't tolerate any step too big or any pirouette not perfectly balanced. She sighs whenever I add playful leaps to a waltz and when I skip wearing shoes.

Like now.

I sat down in the chair. The back was intricately carved with lovely flowers and bluebirds, but the carvings dug painfully into my shoulders. Madame Edith sat beside me, folding her hands in her lap and pursing her lips.

"You know perfectly well, Princess, that all proper young ladies wear shoes wherever they go, no matter how uncomfortable they may be. Why, when I was a lass of four years, my mother trained me to walk with grace by fitting me with a pair of high heels. It was not…"

I allowed my eyes to wander around the ballroom, because when Madame Edith got started on her tales of the past, she often kept going until the sun went down. There were no escape routes in sight, and I sighed. As the minutes ticked by, I grew increasingly uncomfortable. The fancy ball gown I always wore for dancing was much too tight around the waist, making it difficult to breathe. My cropped brown hair kept falling into my face, and strands of it were plastered to my forehead with perspiration.

"Hey."

I started.

"Rapunzel." The voice was soft but recognizable, and I twisted around in my chair to see the most wonderful person in my life, Eugene Fitzherbert.

He grinned at me from a doorway, casually leaning against a marble pillar as though he'd been doing it for years. "What do you say we get out of here?" he mouthed.

I swallowed my giggles and turned to Madame Edith, who was still droning on about what a proper, sweet, obedient young lady she had been when she was my age.

"…as most people know. Those shoes were the finest I had ever worn. Scarlet red, they were, with tall heels and satin ribbons. It was my first time waltzing in them, but I kept my wits about me and managed to perform as well as any –"

I stood up, and my chair was pushed back with a loud scraping sound. "If you'll excuse me, Madame Edith, I have a lovesick swain to take care of." Eugene made a sound of indignation as I swept a low curtsy in my horrified dance instructor's direction. "I might be gone for some time, but please do not trouble yourself and come looking for me."

"Yes, yes, of course," Madame Edith said weakly, while at the same time shooting poison darts at Eugene with her eyes. (The palace staff _still _isn't used to him hanging around.)She managed a tight smile through her distress, however, and I smiled back before making a mad dash for the exit. I managed to hold in my giggles until Eugene and I were safely out in the courtyard.

O*O*O

"So, what sort of fascinating little speech was Madame Pish-Posh throwing at you this time?" Eugene asked, sliding his arm around my waist as we sat on the stone rim of a courtyard fountain.

I swatted his arm. "It's Madame_ Edith_, and be nice, Eugene," I scolded lightly. Then I sighed, looking down at my bare toes peeking out from under the voluminous skirts of my gown. "I got caught without shoes."

"Again," Eugene seconded.

"Again." I sighed. "But I can live without shoes. I lived without shoes for eighteen years! I explored a forest, braved a pub full of thugs, and led an entire kingdom in a dance – all without shoes! Plus, I like my toes." I wiggled my feet around. "They feel cramped inside those awful heels."

"I like your toes too, Blondie." Eugene pulled me onto his lap, and I snuggled against his shoulder.

"So, what were you supposed to be doing before you came to my rescue?" I asked, poking him. My father, King Jonathan, decided to get Eugene started on lessons fit for a nobleman since he wasn't planning to leave the palace anytime soon. That, and because he hoped – he knew, or so he claimed – Eugene would soon propose to me and would therefore need all the princely training beforehand. Also because I was hoping the council and staff (and hopefully the rest of the kingdom) would start warming up to him if they interacted with Eugene on a daily basis. So far, it hadn't been working.

Eugene looked thoroughly annoyed. "History," he said with obvious disgust. "The life story of King Willard the Third. And before that, his father, Willard the Second. And before that, Willard the First."

I giggled. History has always been Eugene's least favorite subject. "I'm sorry, Eugene," I said.

Eugene dropped a pebble into the fountain and watched the ripples grow. He kept quiet, wearing what I call his among-the-stars look on his face. It usually means he's either daydreaming or that something's bothering him. Judging from the way his eyes clouded the way they always do when he's worried, I could easily guess.

"Eugene?" I asked hesitantly. "Is something wrong?"

His head snapped up, but I saw the emotions portrayed in his amber eyes flicker. "What? No. No, I'm fine, Blondie. Really."

I slid closer to him. "Ha, ha."

The corner of his mouth fluttered, and for a moment, he almost smiled. But then the footfalls of guards echoed on the paved pathways that wove through the gardens, and his smile disappeared.

"Eugene?"

"Well… I don't think…" He broke off, shaking his head. "Actually… never mind. It's nothing. Besides, you don't need to be saddled with my stupid crap."

"What stupid crap?" I asked, weaving my fingers through his. "You know you'll end up telling me sooner or later," I added, trying to bring that smile back.

"It's just that I –" A sudden fit of coughing cut him off.

"Are you all right?" I gazed at him from under a swoop of chocolate brown hair.

"I'm fine, Goldiecakes," he managed once the coughing had subsided. "Don't worry about me or my stupid problems. After all," he said, waggling his eyebrows and shooting me one of his cocky grins, "it's nothing Flynn Rider can't handle, right?"

"Hmm. I don't know. There's a lot Flynn Rider can't handle, like, say, frying pans and chameleon tongues."

Eugene winced. "Ah. Good point."

I leaned against him once more, and together we soaked up the silence and simple beauty of the palace gardens. The sky glowed a brilliant orange, the russet light painting the flowers in shades of golden and red regardless of their original hue. A breeze darted through the grass, making the blades sway lightly in a dance that followed the beat of the crickets' song. Somewhere, a bird twittered as it soared through the clouds, which were now glowing with purple and blue hues as the sky faded from brilliant red to a husky indigo. The sounds of both nature and the palace slowly died down but for the steady march of the nighttime guards.

I stirred slightly in Eugene's arms. Something – I couldn't quite figure what – was not right. As far as I could tell, nothing was wrong with the palace or the surrounding land itself. The night had worked wonders on the everyday clamor and activity of day. I was fairly certain my parents were fine; if I craned my neck, I could see that a light was on in their room, all the way at the top of one of the castle's turrets. And I knew for a fact that my beloved pet chameleon, Pascal, was all right; earlier, before I'd gone to my dance lesson, I'd introduced him to a little Pascal-sized jungle gym made of wood. I'd made it myself (with some help from the royal carpenter), adding plenty of little nooks and crannies, swings and slides. As far as I knew he was still playing with it, which I found utterly adorable.

So pretty much everything should have been all right…

_Eugene. _

I was still snuggled up against him, so I could hear the faint wheezing sound inside his chest whenever he took a breath. My own breath came in a small gasp – Eugene? Wheezing? That was in no way normal.

Eugene shifted beneath me. "Rapunzel?" he said. "What, may I ask, are you doing?"

I startled, jerking upright. I'd been trying to listen to his breathing through the thick fabric of his vest (which was extremely difficult). Maybe I should have been mortified for worrying so much, but just then I didn't care. Instead, I confronted him.

"You're not all right," I stated, jabbing him lightly in the collarbone. "First you've been all quiet, then you started coughing, and now you're sort of… wheezing whenever you breathe." I gazed at him from under the clumps of hair that fell into my eyes. "Are you sure nothing's wrong?"

Some odd emotion flitted across his face, one I didn't quite catch. Annoyance, maybe? Anxiety? Or maybe – was it… fear?

Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the look vanished, and I was certain I had imagined it when he pulled me close and planted a kiss on my forehead.

"You worry too much, Blondie," he murmured into my hair as he rubbed small circles on my back.

"I do not." My voice was muffled, seeing as my face was pressed into his shoulder.

"Ha."

I relented. "Well, maybe a little." Pulling away slightly so that his arms remained firmly wrapped around my waist, I gazed up at him. Maybe it was just the moonlight, but his skin appeared … _whiter _than usual.

"Are you sure everything's okay?" I asked softly, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. "You're looking kind of… pale."

Eugene lifted a hand to his face and shrugged before pulling me into another embrace. "Don't worry, Rapunzel," he whispered into my ear as I hugged him back. "I'm fine."

Till my dying day I will wish I had not believed him.

O*O*O

For eight days he appeared normal. He only had two more of his unexpected coughing spasms, and each time he assured me that he'd just had something caught in his throat. His skin, although still slightly pale, looked better in the daylight than it had by night in the gardens. He joked and laughed and teased me as he always had, and after the fifth day of normality my worries slipped away. In fact, I nearly forgot about the troubled look he'd had in his eyes that day, the faint wheeze that accompanied each breath, the fear that had crossed his face for that brief moment.

And then, ten days after our evening in the gardens, the Dark Plague decided to consume him once and for all.

O*O*O

At first I didn't notice anything was wrong.

Boggled down by lessons, as I always was on almost every other day, I hadn't had the time to catch up with Eugene all morning. Sure, I'd been able to chat a little during the pockets of free time between classes, but it hadn't nearly been enough.

If I had, during those brief meetings with him, paid a little more attention, I would have noticed that his skin was much paler than usual, that his eyes were clouded, that his voice broke on every other word and was slightly hoarse – but I hadn't seen anything of the sort.

What I'd give to be able to go back in time and change that.

But it was only at the worst possible moment that I actually realized what was happening to him, my Eugene.

And from this point onward, my life would be changed forever.

O*O*O

"Mother, have you seen Eugene?"

Queen Isabel looked up from her book. "Hmm?"

"She's looking for Eugene, dearest," King Jonathan informed her before turning to me. "I'm sorry, Petal. We haven't seen him since…" He paused. "Actually, I don't recall seeing him since last night. How is he, Rapunzel? He looked rather pale the last time I saw him."

I almost laughed. "I wish I knew how he was." Then I sighed. "He's been acting different, a little. All I know is that something's bothering him, and he won't tell me what," I confessed.

Mother set her book on the windowsill and touched my shoulder. "Oh, darling. Men are like that sometimes. I remember the time your father started acting fairly strange. He kept hiding from me and barely spoke to me."

"Excuse me, I'm right here," he interrupted.

Mother continued, smiling. "And to top it off, he kept disappearing for hours on end without a trace. I was certain he was seeing someone else, so I confronted him."

"She even had a book at her disposal," my father recalled. "A particularly heavy one at that. I believe it was _The Encyclopedia of Medical History._"

"And what do you know," my mother went on, ignoring her husband, "all that time, he'd simply been trying to rack up the nerve to propose to me." She laughed. "He asked me then, when I was all ready to attack him with a book, if I would be his bride."

"Old news." My father made a show of flapping his hand about, as though he were shooing away a pesky swarm of flies. "Rapunzel, have you checked Eugene's room? He might be willing to talk to you if you aren't out in the open."

"Oh! I completely forgot about his room!" Feeling rather stupid, I smiled sheepishly at my parents. "Thank you, Mother. You to, Daddy." I tossed the words over my shoulder as I left my parents' room. It occurred to me that if Eugene really was in his room, he had to be doing something important since he'd been in there most of the day.

I headed down the hall. Eugene's quarters were quite a ways down from mine, which I found annoying, but my father hadn't racked up enough nerve to move him to a room closer to mine. Until he did, however, I was forced to walk down five hallways to get to his room.

I rapped lightly against his door, and when there was no response I peeked in through the keyhole. Unfortunately, it didn't give me much of a view.

"Eugene?" I called. No response.

"_Eugene_," I said again, knocking once more.

Still no answer. Biting my lip, I wondered briefly if he was hiding, or simply didn't want to talk to me.

"Eugene!" I persisted. "Are you all right?"

When once again nobody responded, I gave up and tried the doorknob. To my surprise, it was unlocked, and I opened the door just a crack.

There have been times when I've been scared, as in completely terrified, but the shock and horror and heartbreak I felt at this particular moment makes the other scary moments seem like a walk in the park. This one moment will forever live in my memory as the most heartbreaking ever, right next to the time when Eugene first died to save me.

The first thing I noticed when I peeked inside the room was that the fire was out, and the ashes had settled across the floor, the bed, and the simple furniture of the room. The second thing I noticed was that the curtains were tightly drawn, and the room was dim and musty. But there were no signs of human activity within.

"Eugene?" I whispered. I stepped inside – and my heart stopped at the sight of the young man lying in the middle of the floor, unmoving…

"_EUGENE!"_

Somewhere I heard footsteps thundering, my parents calling my name over and over. I didn't care. I threw myself onto Eugene's limp form and let the tears flow freely down my cheeks.

O*O*O

**Whoa, very long and VERY epic chapter. O.o **

**Was this one too long? I mean, I meant to make it shorter and the flow isn't very smooth, but what the heck. I promise the next chapter will be better. Criticism is much appreciated. :D**

**Peace!**

**Silverbells**


	3. Thistle

**Hi everyone! ;) Aww, I can't thank y'all enough for your amazing compliments. You make me sound like a better writer than I really am.**

**Flynn: Hey wait a minute. Why do I always suffer in everyone's stories?**

**Me: Uh... *sweatdrop***

**Flynn: I already died once. Isn't that enough? *pouts* Apparently, no.**

**Me: Actually...**

**Flynn: I feel so unloved! ;* (smolder)**

**Me: O.o**

**Flynn: I've had enough. I'll be in trailer if you need me. **

**Me: Uh, yeah. Sure. Great...**

**We *do* love to torture Flynn, don't we? *ponders***

**Ohmigosh. I was hanging out downtown the other day AND I SAW A DUDE WHO LOOKED ALMOST EXACTLY LIKE FLYNN RIDER! EXCEPT HE HAD BROWNISH-BLONDE HAIR, BUT STILL! I actually considered going up and asking him "How's Rapunzel", but then I thought it would be too weird. XD**

**Anyhoo, I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

O*O*O

It's funny how the ones we love most can also take our hearts and squeeze them till they're bruised. This is exactly how I felt when I saw Eugene lying motionless on the floor, pale and still and barely breathing. I don't remember much after my parents, along with at least fifteen royal guards, burst into the room. There are only bits and pieces I recall – the guards looking uncertainly at Eugene, my father shouting for the Royal Physician, my mother's arm pulling me close.

Nothing comforted me.

The hours afterward are also just a blur – a couple of guards lifting Eugene up, commenting under their breaths that he barely weighed anything – my mother letting me hide my face in her shoulder – my father holding me tight – my silent tears flowing.

But even three years afterward I still remember every moment after the Royal Physician came out of Eugene's room after diagnosing him…

O*O*O

"Will he be okay? What does he have? What's happening to him? Please, tell me he'll be okay!" I clung to my mother's arm as I pleaded with the Royal Physician outside Eugene's room.

Dr. Mandrake took my hand and patted it sympathetically. "Princess…" He trailed off.

I pulled my hand out of his grasp. "Princess _what?"_ I hated sounding so tart, but I couldn't help it. Wouldn't anyone be harsh if the love of their life had just dropped unconscious out of nowhere? Besides, I had a right to know what was wrong with Eugene. The doctors had been trying to diagnose him for over thirty minutes, and during that time, I'd heard murmuring coming from behind the locked doors. The whispers were low, but the tone had been dead serious. Something wasn't right.

Dr. Mandrake looked at my parents. "She might need to sit down for this one."

"I'm right here, you know." I could feel myself trembling.

Mother pushed gently on my arm. "Sit, baby," she whispered in my ear. "Everything's going to be okay."

I allowed myself to drop stiffly into chair. My parents sat next to me, my mother still holding my hand. She gave it a small squeeze, and I managed a weak little smile. Dr. Mandrake sat facing us.

"Princess," he began in a gentle, almost fatherly tone, "have you ever heard of the plague?"

Well, of course I had. "Gothel… she warned me about it," I recalled. "She said I'd be dead within a week if it found me."

Beside me, my mother flinched and the mention of Gothel's name and squeezed my hand harder.

The doctor nodded at me, his spectacles slipping down his nose. "Have you ever heard tell of a certain type of plague called the Dark Plague?"

I racked my memory. "No. At least, I don't think so." I looked up at him. "Please tell me about it."

Dr. Mandrake heaved a great sigh, and when he spoke he looked not at me but at the floor. "It came from the north, riding the backs of heavy winds. The first victim was a young boy from the kingdom of Neustria – maybe he was sixteen or seventeen. Since then, many others have fallen sick with what we call the Dark Plague."

I bit my lip, trying to recall lessons from my geography class. "Neustria? Isn't that up on the other end of the shoreline?"

"As far up the coast as you can get, yes," the doctor confirmed, spreading his hands wide. Clumps of his dark hair fell into his eyes, painfully reminding me of Eugene and his antics.

"Please go on."

"From what we can gather, the Dark Plague has traveled over the years from kingdom to kingdom – but only when it can catch winds heavy enough to make the trip."

"I don't recall any particularly strong winds during the past few months," my father interrupted with a frown.

Dr. Mandrake bowed his head apologetically. "My mistake, your Majesty," he relented. "It doesn't always have to be spread by wind. If a kingdom nearby has been consumed by Dark Plague, then it would be easy for the illness to hop smaller breezes and reach Corona." He bowed again and resumed speaking to me. "Over the past few months we've been getting more and more deaths because of the Dark Plague," he continued. "Some thirty-three people have already died in the past three months."

I was thunderstruck. "Thirty-three!" I whipped around to face my parents, who looked at each other with matching_ uh-oh_ faces. "You knew, didn't you? Why didn't you _tell_ me?"

My father touched my shoulder. "Rapunzel… we thought you might not be able to handle it."

"But… all those people… I have a right to know. They're my very own subjects!" I hated using the term "subjects", but in this case I had no better word to describe my rights over them.

"We're sorry, Flower," my mother relented. "I promise you that we'll always let you know about… well, everything from now on."

"Thank goodness for that." I could feel myself getting tart again, but this time it was tinged with unspeakable sadness for all those who had died, those who were mourning, and those who were still suffering… how could they have tried to hide something like that from me?

Dr. Mandrake cleared his throat. "Your Majesties…?" I'd forgotten about him.

"Carry on," my father said.

The doctor cleaned his spectacles on the lapel of his dark red suit. "Now where was I? Ah, yes – thirty-three people in Corona have already expired from the Dark Plague. It's fairly difficult most of the time to diagnose the Dark Plague early on, since it doesn't seem too serious to begin with. "

"What about symptoms?" My voice came out as an unsteady whisper.

"Right. Symptoms." He glanced at my parents.

"Go on," my mother said.

Dr. Mandrake looked uncertain, but he took my hand once more. This time I didn't pull away. "The earliest symptoms are oddly pale complexion and a cough."

I suddenly felt very dizzy. "Paleness and a cough," I repeated. My hands trembled.

"There is a brief span of six to ten days when the victim appears normal…"

I grabbed my mother's hand and clutched it.

"And then the disease will strike full force. First there comes at least three days of unconsciousness, followed by severe cough, extremely delicate skin, and temporary blindness. Usually the victim… ah, expires… within a week. Those who survive are few, and even they will remain blind for the rest of their lives." He patted my hand sympathetically.

"What are you trying to say?" I demanded, my voice coming out louder than I intended it to. I shouldn't have asked; I already knew where this was heading. I just didn't want to accept it…

"Princess…" the doctor said just as my mother pleaded, "Rapunzel…"

"What?" I said sharply, pulling my hand out of Dr. Mandrake's grasp.

He stood abruptly and looked away from me. "Your Highness, Eugene Fitzherbert has been diagnosed with Dark Plague. We'll do all we can for him, but there's no guarantee that he'll make it. I'm sorr–"

"_NO!" _

My parents, Dr. Mandrake, and several other doctors and servants who happened to be milling about nearby jumped. I stood so suddenly that my chair fell over backward with a crash, and my crown slipped off my head and clattered to the floor at my feet. For one long moment I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. My mind kept bleating, _Eugene… Eugene… Eugene…_

I turned and raced from the room.

No one tried to stop me.

O*O*O

Outside, it was pouring buckets. Rain pounded down from above like a torrent of tears and battered the palace gardens until the flowers were limp and the trees sagged with water. Puddles the size of rafts appeared and turned one part of the gardens into a miniature swamp. The moment I burst outside, I was drenched. My hair hung in scraggly ringlets, plastered to my forehead and face. The train of my sky-blue dress turned an unattractive shade of muddy brown as I plowed through puddles and ran into slushy grass, searching for a place where I could be alone.

Fortunately, I did not have to look far. Even the animals were absent from the gardens because of the unforgiving downpour. Under a large oak tree I took shelter, throwing myself down at the base of the tree trunk and crying my eyes out. Tears mingled with raindrops as they streaked down my face. I must have looked like some street-walker with my bedraggled dress, bare, muddy feet, and red-rimmed eyes.

I don't know how long I lay outside in the storm. To be honest, I barely noticed that my wet skirts grew heavier by the minute and that tangled in my hair were small twigs and leaves. All I could thing was, _Eugene... don't leave me again..._

I turned my tear-streaked face to the sky. _"Why?"_ I cried. My voice broke as I spoke, this time in a whisper. _"Why?"_

There was no response, just the pain of water droplets hitting my eyes.

O*O*O

After a while my tears dried up, and I stood silently under the branches of the oak. Even the thick foliage offered little protection from the heresy of rain, and I shivered in my wet dress, wrapping my arms around myself in attempt to stay warm. The fabric stuck to my arms and legs as a fierce wind ripped through the gardens, and I was faintly aware that if I stayed outside for too long, I would catch a cold.

_So what?_

Eugene was sick, and nothing else mattered.

My toes became numb from the icy puddle I happened to be standing in.

Eugene had given up so much for me. He'd risked his life so many times for me... in the cave, where I'd been so sure we'd drown... when he gave me a tour of a kingdom full of guards who wanted him dead... in the tower, he _died _so I could be free. He loved me that much.

When had I ever done anything for _him?_

I sank to the grass and buried my face in my arms. I'd never shown him how much I loved him back. Telling someone you love them isn't the same as showing them. I shivered again, and this time it wasn't from the clammy chill of my clothes. Because...

What if I never got a chance to show him? What if he wouldn't make it... again?

My breath caught in my throat as I remembered the utter lifelessness of Eugene's limp form as he lay dying in my arms that day in the tower. It had been scary, pretty much, to see him so still and pale after seeing him running through open fields, climbing trees, riding horses, dancing with me.

What if we both had to go through that again?

A puddle had formed at my feet, and I gazed absently into the water, rippling from raindrops. My reflection showed a girl with tearstained cheeks and red eyes, and cropped brown hair that stuck up in some places and was plastered down in others. I didn't look anything like me. The girl who gazed intently back was so utterly helpless, captured in this puddle that, while small, was still enough to keep her in place.

I sighed shakily and stood, dripping water and looking like I'd come straight out of _The Princess and the Pea. _If I hadn't been so upset, I might have laughed at the thought, but at that moment I was freezing from my toes up to the tips of my ears. In desperate need of warmth and consolation, I reluctantly decided it was time to head back inside. The problem was, I didn't feel like facing anybody, least of all my parents. They wouldn't be able to offer much more than a few hugs and their sympathy, along with awkward phrases like, "He'll be better, you'll see," and "He's a strong boy, he'll pull through". Not that I didn't want comfort, but I wanted to know that Eugene would _for sure_ be all right. I needed certainty. I'd just have to meet up with my parents later, even though it made me worried to think how frantic my parents must be, searching for me everywhere.

So I slipped in through the servants' quarters, a spacious room filled with cots in neat little rows. Thankfully, nobody was present, as I'd hoped. Most of the servants would be searching for me. Feeling very much like Flynn Rider, I padded up one of our smaller, lesser known staircases to the upper floors, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind. It was a miracle I managed to get into my own room unseen and unnoticed.

I locked the door as quietly as I could and prayed my parents wouldn't visit anytime soon. Behind me, I heard a small squeak and a few trills, and I scooped my beloved pet chameleon, Pascal, into my hands and hugged him close. "Hi, Pascal," I said softly and was annoyed to hear my voice tremble. "Find any new lizard friends today?"

Pascal looked at me with his okay-what's-the-problem-this-time-girl look and waited for an explanation. One of the things I love about Pascal is that he can sense others' emotions, and that he is willing to listen when you talk to him. Not that he can talk back and tell you he _doesn't _want to listen, but still. I bit my lip to keep it from trembling, but my eyes welled up anyway. I forced the tears away.

"Eu-Eug-gene is s-sick," I managed, speaking through the lump in my throat. "Very sick. T-the doctor t-told me that he h-has D-dark Plague, and that he could _die!_" I burst out, struggling to keep my eyes from overflowing. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't keep a few tears from leaking out. Oh, I hated being seen like this in front of anyone, even Pascal.

Pascal looked at me in disbelief at first, and then his scales turned a gray-blue color – the color of sadness. He put a teensy paw on my thumb by means of reassurance. I smiled, but it wobbled.

"Thanks, Pascal," I sniffled. "I guess we're both in this together, huh?"

He purred and resumed his natural green color, and I let him perch on my shoulder. The comforting warmth of his body calmed me down somewhat, and I sat down on my bed, swinging my legs and gazing up at the kaleidoscope of colors that danced across the spacious walls, forming the murals I had been painting since the day I took up residence in the castle.

Most of my murals were of flowers, open fields, waterfalls, shorelines, birds, forests, squirrels, marketplaces, palaces, so on and so forth. Across the dome of my ceiling I'd painted the sky; one half with clouds and sunshine, the other half with a gibbous moon and a scattering of stars. Smack in the middle of those two skies, I'd painted a girl, with her left side awash in sunlight and her right softly glowing alongside the moon. From right side of her head spilled a waterfall of golden hair, pooling at her feet and winding like a river among the stars, but her hair on her left side was brown, short, shorn; a new beginning, but also something lost.

Out of habit, loneliness, and maybe even wistfulness, I reached behind my head and ran my fingers lightly down the cropped brown pixie cut that had replaced my river of sunshine. Not that I wasn't fond of my new hairdo – how could I _not_ love it? It was such a relief after having to carry around a hundred-million pound burden on my head. I could run without worrying about getting entangled in bushes or tree branches. I could twirl without getting wrapped up in hair and falling with painful thuds; I could finish brushing in less than five minutes; I could go to sleep without worrying that Gothel – or someone else – would whisk me away, the human flower, the living magic of youth. Without the burden of my magic hair, I was free.

That didn't mean I didn't miss my old hair.

My long tresses had been more than just a source of eternal youth and health. To me, my hair had been a comfort, a friend, almost. It had been the only means of entertainment in my tower that never got old. I had been able to climb virtually anything with the aid of my locks. They were fun to slide down, too. I'd used my hair as a means of flight, almost, by suspending myself in midair with it. When I felt lonely, or cold, or scared, I simply had to wrap myself up in my tresses and I'd feel safe. The sunny color, the beauty of its glow when I sang, the hundreds of things I could accomplish with it...

Now was definitely a time when I could sit for hours missing my hair.

Besides...

My gaze fell to my favorite painting of all, a mural of a girl with long blonde hair and the man she loved most sitting together in a boat, gazing at each other. Lanterns, hundreds of them, hovered in the background and floated near the boat, but the couple's eyes were only fixed on each other. The girl's hair was almost real, looked like it would glow if you sang to it. But I was mainly interested in the handsome young man holding her hands.

_Oh, Eugene..._

In my mind's eye, an image flashed through my mind, depicting a forlorn girl with cropped brown hair leaning over the same man, who was now pale and lifeless. His eyes were closed, and his mouth was slightly open. A bloodstain, barely visible, turned the dark green of his vest mottled red.

_I could have healed you then, and I would have been able to heal you NOW..._

_If you hadn't cut my hair. _

A knock sounded at the door. We both jumped, and I scurried across the room to my closet and began rooting around for a dress I could change into. Strangely enough, I found one of Eugene's outfits hanging towards the back next to the ball gowns. His green vest, white button-down, trousers, and boots looked extremely out of place among the frilly lace skirts and pearl-strung petticoats.

The knock sounded again, louder this time. I yanked a pale purple nightgown over my sodden bodice and shoved my muddied gown to the back of the wardrobe. As quietly as I could, I lay down on my bed and held still, willing myself to fall asleep. The only problem was that my still-damp bodice kept rubbing against my skin in all the wrong places. If the thing didn't dry soon, I'd end up with a rash by morning. And there was, of course, that nut who kept banging on my door, refusing to leave me alone...

At last I gave in to the anonymous knocker. Sighing, I slid out of bed and padded across the room to the door. I peeked through the keyhole, but it was too small to give me much of a view. All I could see was the knocker's simple white apron with ruffles encircling the waist. Oh. A maid.

In one quick motion, I yanked open the door, took hold of the startled girl's wrist, and pulled her inside. She let loose a yelp, stumbling backwards into a wall with a thud as I shoved the door closed and locked it again. "Shhh," I cautioned, releasing her arm. "I'm sorry, but I don't want my parents to know I'm inside."

The girl regained her footing and gawked at me for a long moment before giving a soft "Oh!" She swept down in a curtsy, pulling her dark green skirts on either side and revealing worn brown slippers on her feet. "Forgive me, Your Majesty," she said softly, clearly nervous. "But every servant in the castle has orders to escort you to her Highness Queen Isabel or his Majesty King Jonathan if you are found. And I'm sorry," she added quietly, "about him. Mister Rider, ah, Fitzherbert."

I bit my lip. Did everyone know about him? "You're very kind – what did you say your name was?"

"Thistle, Majesty." In the flickering candlelight, I saw that she had two loose braids of bright orange hair, a rare sight in a kingdom such as Corona. We were a mainly brunette population. Thistle's hair glowed bronze by the light of the candle, the same color as the freckles dancing across her nose. She was petite, rosy-cheeked, and very young; fourteen or fifteen, perhaps. She spoke with a lilting accent I didn't recognize.

"Where are you from, Thistle?" I asked.

"Ireland, Majesty," she responded, nervously plucking at the lacy collar of her apron.

I pondered. "Ireland," I repeated, mainly to myself. "That's a bit far away."

Thistle wrung her hands and smiled awkwardly. I was making her nervous.

"Your Majesty, I..." she began, but I cut her off.

"My name is Rapunzel," I said as firmly as I could. "Not 'Majesty' or 'Princess'. Please, call me anything but my title."

Thistle looked puzzled, but to my everlasting gratitude she respected my command. "All right, Your... Rapunzel."

I let my in-command look drop of my face and gave her a small smile. "And... why are you here?"

"Your Maj – Rapunzel, I was sent to change the bedsheets and, well, I found you instead." It was then I noticed the pile of purple satin sheets strewn across the floor. She must have dropped them when I pulled her inside.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" I gasped. "Here, I'll pick them up for you."

"No, no, your – Rapunzel. I can manage!" She dropped to her knees and scrambled to gather the sheets. She managed to collect a few, but I was already struggling under a bulky armload.

"These are heavy!" I giggled for what seemed like the first time that day. "How did you carry them all up here?" My Eugene worries departed for the moment.

Thistle wrestled the sheets away from me. She was surprisingly strong for her age. And no wonder; the silky cloth bundle weighed as much as a horse. "I have my ways."

I let her have the sheets and began pulling the covers off my bed. "Well, at least let me help you arrange them." Before she could respond, I grabbed one sheet and began to spread it over my bed.

Thistle gave in and helped me smooth the corners. "You are unlike any princess I've ever met," she said shyly. I noticed that her eyes were round and green, like mine, only hers were a much darker hue. "You want to do other peoples' work. You like helping out. _And_ you go barefoot."

"You must be new," I said with a giggle. "Soon you'll get sick and tired of me and will complain to my parents about how I'm doing all your work."

Thistle let a sheet drop to the mattress in a heap. "Oh! Your Majesty – Rapunzel – your parents. I have my orders... they are frantic, you know. I'm sorry if it goes against your wishes, but I must tell them where you are –"

"No!" I grabbed her wrist and pulled her back from the door. "Please, don't," I pleaded. "I'm sorry. I just can't see them right now. It's Eugene, the only one I need to see is him, but I'm sure they won't let me see him in the infirmary, they'll think that I might catch the Dark Plague if I see him, and... and..." I wiped a few tears from my eyes and abruptly turned to face the wall. "You probably think I'm crazy," I murmured, wrapping my arms around my ribs. Oh, Eugene. I needed him more than anyone else...

"You're not crazy," Thistle said from behind me. "A mite eccentric, perhaps, but not crazy."

I smiled in the dark. Outside, the rain continued to hammer down, but the thunder and lightning had stopped. Pascal purred softly from his spot on my pillow – cute little chameleon snores.

"You say Mister Ri – Fitzherbert has Dark Plague?"

I nodded, my back still turned to her.

"Princess... Rapunzel..."

Something in her voice made me look over my shoulder at her. She seemed to glow faintly in the candlelight.

"I know someone," she began slowly, as though afraid I might cut her off. "A lady, an alchemist, who lives in the forest."

I waited, but a small inkling of hope rose inside me.

"I don't know her very well, because I'm new to Corona. Perhaps you've heard of her. Aeryn. Some call her the Witch of Corona, and that's why she's hardly ever seen out of her shack. Not many look for her either. But she's an expert in healing, and she claims to be in touch with the Spirits, so she knows more about diseases and their possible cures than most people."

"Are you saying...?"

Thistle fiddled with one of her braids. "I'm sorry, your Highness. I've said too much." Her posture suddenly became stiff; her voice was formal. Was she afraid she would be in trouble for telling me something I shouldn't have heard? "I must be on my way now." She turned to go, and for the third time I pulled her back.

"No, wait. This lady. Where does she live? Does she know a cure for Dark Plague?" I held my breath as I waited for Thistle's reply. Maybe... just maybe... there was a chance...

Thistle stared at her toes. What was she hiding?

"Tell me, Thistle," I said quietly. "I promise you, you won't be in trouble."

She looked at me and sighed softly. "You'll run off to find her if I tell you."

The inkling of hope inside me blossomed. "So she does know a cure? Where does she live?" I gripped the maid's arm.

Thistle pulled my hands off her and glanced at the door. "You'll run off for sure, and your parents will be desperate."

"Please, just tell me, Thistle," I pleaded, latching onto her arm. My heart thudded in my ears; a million thoughts swirled through my minds at once. If I could find a cure, Eugene would live. If I found a cure, I could heal the thousands who were still sick. Hope continued to bloom throughout me, like dawn after a stormy night.

Finally, Thistle sighed. "She might know a cure," she said, so softly that I barely heard. "I don't know for sure. But she might be able to help you. She lives in the deepest part of the forest, but any huntsman – or peasant – can show you the way."

I released her at last and took a step back. "Thank you," I said. My voice wobbled slightly, as did my smile. Thistle smiled back, but it was nervous. She put her hand on the doorknob, but I stopped her. "Wait." I ran to my dresser and rooted through one of the drawers. Pens, papers, paintbrushes, polished stones, seashells, pinecones, dried leaves. I opened another drawer. Candles, flowers, acorns, chess pieces, teensy porcelain figurines, Pascal's toys. Nothing that I could use as a suitable reward.

Thistle waited by the door. Her hair glowed amber.

Hmm, amber. Maybe...

I opened my jewelry box and sorted through it. I hardly ever wore jewelry; sometimes I put on a plain gold chain around my neck with a little flower charm, but that was it. To be honest, I preferred daisy chains to diamonds and leafy crowns to jade ones. I never liked earrings; they pinched my earlobes. Bracelets snagged on my sleeves and made too much of a jangling sound. Necklaces were all right, but many of my dressier ones were so heavily encrusted with jewels that it took all my strength to keep my head up. Finger rings simply got in the way. In short, I hardly touched my jewels. I did, however, know that even my simplest pearl necklace was worth a fortune to those who lived as commoners.

At the very bottom of my jewelry box, buried beneath ruby earrings and opal necklaces, was a medium-sized diamond brooch. I closed the box and handed her the brooch.

She hesitated before taking and slowly turning it in her hands. "For me, Princess?"

"Rapunzel," I corrected her. "And yes, it's for you. For telling me about..."

"Aeryn?"

"Aeryn, yeah. Thank you." I stepped forward and gave her a little hug before guiding her to the door. "Watch out for thieves."

"Thank you, your – Rapunzel. I will." She said it in a serious and formal tone, but her eyes were shining.

"You're very welcome," I told her. She smiled, and her face glowed like the moon before she closed the door behind her. I sank to the floor, my mind kicking into overdrive.

If what Thistle said was true, I could get a cure from this alchemist by tomorrow evening and return home long before Eugene... well, before the Dark Plague consumed him. A victim usually had a week before anything like that happened. The deepest part of the forest bit was a little vague, but Thistle had mentioned that a huntsman could show me the way. And I could accomplish all that in at least two days...

Oh my gosh. Could it really be that simple?

I turned the idea over in my head a few times. If I wore a disguise, nobody would be able to tell if I left the castle. I could take a few pieces of jewelry in case I needed to bribe anyone to direct me to the alchemist's shack. I would need rope, too, and maybe a pocketknife in case the huntsman refused a necklace. Food wouldn't be a problem, and neither would transportation. We had plenty of horses in the stable. As for defense, what better weapon to bring on a road trip than my frying pan?

I rocked back and forth on my heels.

_It's too dangerous, _a little voice in my head piped up.

Well, of course there would be a little danger. But once you've braved a pub full of thugs and a demolished dam and flash flood, it's hard to be afraid of your local forest. Besides, my frying pan and I had easily taken down the most elusive thief of all time (aka Flynn Rider). What was there to be afraid of?

_REAL ruffians, REAL thugs, poison ivy, quicksand, cannibals and snakes, not to mention large bugs and men with pointy teeth..._

I pushed the little voice away. It was settled, and nobody could stop me.

_Hold on, Eugene._

I shook the pillow Pascal was snoozing on until he awoke with a squeak and glared at me.

"Come on, Pascal," I said, scooping him up. "We're going on a road trip."

O*O*O

**WHOA. LONG CHAPTER. Eeeee!**

**Actually, this chapter was supposed to be – gasp – three times as long, but I had to chop it up so you guys wouldn't get overwhelmed by my writing frenzy. :D And THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for all your sweetie-potato reviews. As you can imagine, all your wonderful comments have made me walk with my nose very high in the air. ;-) Not that I mind, though! :D **

**I seriously wish I had the time to type up my review replies, but I'm so sorry that I can't. Eep! Just know that you guys are the best!**

**By the way, did anyone else run around the house screaming when they found out that there's gonna be a short of Flynn and Rapunzel's wedding? I sure did, and I got about a million weird looks throughout the rest of the day. :)**

**Okay, enough chitchat! Tell me what you think!**

**Peace, love, and Pascals, **

**Silverbells **


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